


Steps in a New Direction

by starduchess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starduchess/pseuds/starduchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione wants to throw out all of the Wizarding traditions for a winter wedding, but that might be the wrong step to take with her fiance and his parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steps in a New Direction

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a pinch-hit for the DHr_Advent 2011 prompt "Candlelight" and using the Marriage Law genre. Beta by my co-worker Tracye; thanks so much, dear!

“It’s revolting how the Ministry has the gall to order us around like this,” fumed Lucius while strolling back and forth in the first-floor drawing room of Malfoy Manor. The place was better kept and somehow not as dark and oppressive as it had been six months ago during the Dark Lord’s occupation, yet it still felt like a prison.

“Yes, well, you’re getting off lightly,” Draco sneered from the corner of an ancient, blue-and-silver brocaded sofa. He was gazing out over the lawn, but he saw nothing of interest. In his hand, halfway discarded, lays the Ministry official parchment that sealed his fate. “They only told you to give up your wand -- which exploded thanks to Potter anyway -- and stay in this house for ten years. I, on the other hand, have to … _marry_.” He said it with such derision that the piece of parchment on which the edict had arrived could have caught fire.

Also looking out over the gardens but distinctly watching the peahens having a morning feast off in one corner, his mother Narcissa sat calmly in a matching armchair. “Does it name who?” her soft voice asked.

“That, of course, is the worst part. They’ve paired me with Hermione Granger of all people, the obnoxious, Gryffindor know-it-all.” He paused as a gasp escaped his mother’s lips and his father swore under his breath. “It claims that such a prominent society member such as myself -- in other words the most recognizable Death Eater available -- would make an excellent match for their prominent war-heroine. What they really mean is they wanted someone who could best me if I start doing dark magic again. What utter rubbish.”

“You could refuse,” his mother suggested.

“And lose his magic? That’s worse than marrying the Mudblood.” His father continued his fuming strides.

“Personally, I think they have it out for me. Granger and I loathe each other.”

“If her lack of poise is as bad as you indicate,” his mother said, “she will be completely unsuited to accompany you on social outings. It is truly an unfair match.”

Draco chuckled a little. “Perhaps I can lock her away in some part of the Manor and take Pansy polyjuiced as her instead. Or better yet, I can lock myself away, get smashing drunk. Sounds like a plan already.”

“You will do no such thing,” barked his father. “I can’t leave the manor, but you can and you must. You have to restore our name. Perhaps this chit can help us do that.”

Draco couldn’t see how.

\--

“No, I don’t think the wedding guests should be broken up by gender; that’s completely last century,” Hermione argued with her future in-laws.

“It’s tradition, you uncouth child!” Lucius yelled at her, insulted that she would mock all their customs.

“So is the sapphire blue colour for a winter bride’s dress,” Narcissa reminded her, annoyed as well at the frustrating negotiations.

“But I don’t look good in deep blue,” Hermione whinged.

“You’d look worse in ruby red for summer,” Draco assured her. “Maybe a nice Slytherin green to compliment your eyes,” he smirked.

“Hush, Draco. That’s for autumn, which we are well past,” his mother admonished.

Hermione sighed. “Look, most pastels are good on me. Why don’t we compromise on a light blue? It will be nice, like icicles.”

“Just like your personality.”

She gritted her teeth. “Shut it, Ferret.”

“Just saying it fits.”

“Stop it. There are much bigger problems here,” said his father. “In polite society, men and women stay on opposite sides of the room until the wedded couple have their first dance. That’s just how things are done.”

“Well, things are changing,” Hermione huffed. She looked Lucius full in the eye without flinching. “You are going to have to change as well, as are all these silly traditions.”

“They are not silly,” Narcissa said, scathingly. “They have upheld the aristocracy for eons, and no Mud-- Muggleborn is going to alter that.”

“Oh, yes, I am,” Hermione challenged. “They need to be modernised.”

“Muggle-mised, you mean,” Lucius said, disgusted. “Do you really have to marry this witch?” he directed at his son. “You should appeal to the Ministry. Throw yourself on their mercy and ask for someone else.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Hermione said, grimacing.

Something in her face caught Draco’s attention, and he made a shrewd insight. “Thought you’d have a future with the Weasel, eh?” Draco taunted her.

Hurt became written all over her features. Her doe eyes flitted back and forth as her mouth trembled to keep in a scream or a cry, but, admirably and with some astonishment, she kept herself together. “Under the present circumstances, you are most likely entitled to know that, yes, I thought I would be with Ron.” She looked into his cold, uncaring grey eyes. “This law affects me just as much as you.”

He held her gaze for a second, then broke away. “Right, then. Time for tea.”

\--

“This is terrible. How can you not have poinsettias at a Christmas-themed wedding?” Hermione threw up her hands in exasperation. Another week of planning had gone by wherein she argued against every set custom in the Wizarding world and his parents grew more annoyed with her.

“Because red is not appropriate for winter weddings, no matter how close to Christmas they take place,” Narcissa explained _again_ , her hands clinched beneath the table to keep from slapping the girl. “Mistletoe is always the chosen flower to invite romance.”

“Oh, yes, from the women on one side of the hall to the men on the other side. You can blow little kisses at each other.” Hermione’s lips puckered in an parody of a kiss.

“Sarcasm doesn’t look good on you, Granger,” Draco drawled.

“Then you better keep your mouth closed during the reception so I can look pretty.” She gave him a fake smile and batted her eyes.

He snarled, but it was Lucius who responded. “You’re the one who needs to close your mouth. Your deportment reflects poorly on us all. Sarcasm and free speech will get you laughed off the society field, and you will end us all in the pauper’s house.”

Hermione rose to face him, her dark eyes flashing with anger. “On the contrary, it is my free mouth that witches and wizards will be taking their cue from to set the new standard. We are already revamping the ministry, education, laws and business economics, why not society? It’s your pure-blooded bigotry that got us into these wars in the first place.”

“We were trying to preserve our way of life! Your blatant disregard for our customs has just proven that we were in the right.”

“I haven’t disregarded them; I just feel it’s time for an upgrade, to show the world we have a better future ahead of us, more tolerant, all-inclusive.”

“You don’t comprehend traditions at all,” chimed in Narcissa.

“That’s not true. I’ve enjoyed learning about --”

“Isn’t it?” she interrupted. “Then why do want to change everything?”

“I do think some of the details are outdated.”

“So you would have us change them and then be talked about behind our backs?” Draco asked.

She huffed. “No, that’s not the point of this at all. In fact, it’s just the opposite. It’s supposed to present you as being forward-thinking, embracing new ideas, accepting of Muggleborns and Half-Bloods. Everyone else will be following in your footsteps. Doesn’t that appeal to you?”

She hoped to persuade him to reason, but all she saw was contempt on his face.

“Oh, yes, to lead them off a cliff by following the great Hermione Granger, doing whatever she says is best.”

“Don’t you get it? I’m doing this for you, to keep you out of Azkaban!” she yelled at him, then promptly burst into tears and fled the drawing room.

“This won’t do at all,” his father grumbled.

But his mother had sat back in her chair, a changed and thoughtful expression on her face. “You should go work things out, darling. She is, however much I hate to admit it, correct in that last statement. Perhaps we should be grateful for her help.” Always the pragmatist, his mother.

“Fine. I’ll go settle her down,” Draco grouched. He got up from his chair and went in search of his errant fiance.

He found her in the smaller library around the corner, trying to regain her composure. “Granger, I --”

“Go away,” she sniffled.

“No. Look. This has been a really bitter pill to swallow, and none of our attitudes, including yours, are helping.” He stood there calm and poised, the aristocratic upbringing evident.

“If you just came here to insult me again --”

“No, I didn’t. I understand you are saving me from Azkaban. And I should be grateful, but I’m not because of this sodding arranged marriage. What I don’t understand is why you would agree to this. Surely they can’t force you; you’re one of the heroes.”

Hermione sniffled a little more and looked away. Her face was sad and dejected, but she took a long breath and said, “After the war, the Wizengamot discussed solutions to the societal upheavals. They got it into their heads that if they could force the next generation to all be Half-bloods, it would eliminate the blood-status problems. Ron and I assumed we would be safe, but they required all us Gryffindors to marry other houses, to help bridge the gaps, you see. And they wanted me to marry a Slytherin to show the possibility of this brand new world.” She paused, her face screwed up at the awful memory. “They wouldn’t accept our ‘no’s, going so far as to tell us that any union between Ron and I would be voided immediately.” At this she broke down into tears again.

Draco remained where he stood, not saying anything until she calmed down some. “Why me? Why not someone else, someone you haven’t loathed for the past seven years?”

She shrugged. “I never really liked any of your friends, just as you didn’t with me and mine, but at least you are intelligent, capable, witty. There wouldn’t ever be a dull moment between us.”

“Of course, because that’s what you want for the rest of your life, a lot of fighting,” he sneered.

She shrugged. “I hear the make-up sex is phenomenal.”

Draco’s eyes widened in shock. “You’ve got to be joking.”

She chuckled a little, then said, “I guess the real reason is that you didn’t give us away when the Snatchers brought us here. I could tell you didn’t want to have any part in it, even though it could have made you triumphant, could have landed you the best seat in Voldemort’s camp. But you didn’t. I saw the horror on your face when Bellatrix was torturing me -- well, in between the screams, I mean. And again in the Room of Hidden Things, you weren’t actively trying to kill us the way Crabbe and Goyle were. I thought you might be open to redemption. I can help with that.”

“How delightful,” he said returning to sarcasm.

She snorted. “You’re welcome.”

His stance turned smug. “You understand you’d get a lot farther with honey than with vinegar.”

She looked confused. “A lot farther with you?”

“Meaning this would all go over better if you didn’t fight my parents at every turn. They and the rest of us Pure-bloods might be willing to accept this new order if they saw you Muggleborns keeping the traditions. At least think about it, will you?” For once he seemed genuinely interested in garnering a positive response from her.

She looked thoughtful for a second, then nodded her head. “All right. I’ll think about it. But it is my wedding, too, and I’ve had certain expectations about how that day would go.”

He stared at her without expression for a minute, then nodded his own head, once. “Just remember that my parents are very set in their ways.” He looked uncomfortable for an instant, then straightened up, flexing his shoulders back. “Speaking of which, it is not uncommon for the bride to stay a few days with the groom’s family while planning these things. Have supper with us and stay the night; we’ll set you up in a comfortable suite in the West Wing. Let them get to know you without the preparation pressures.” _Let me get to know you_ was left hanging in the air between them.

“Thank you,” she said. “I think I shall.” She got another introspective look, her eyes drifting off to the lower left. “Yes, that just might do.”

Not knowing what she meant but not wanting to push the issue for fear of another argument, he let it go. “Fine. I’ll see you later.”

\--

The next morning dawned and the Malfoys found themselves sitting in the dining room with no lights, no food, no servants … and no Hermione.

“What the devil is going on?” growled his father. “Nandy!” he shouted for a house-elf. “Blanner! Cimda!” No answer. “I’ll punish them all,” he fumed.

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” said Narcissa, although she was annoyed as well. “Perhaps I’ll go fetch them from down in their quarters.” She turned in her chair to get up.

“And I’ll go look for Granger,” chimed in Draco, also preparing to leave.

But at that moment, candles began parading in through the main doors, followed by bells ringing a solemn holiday tune. House-elves popped in and out with serving plates and place settings, all the while singing an accompaniment to the bells’ tune.

“Have they all gone daft?” asked Draco, but neither of his parents had an answer.

Once all the candles and decorations were in place, elves still popping in and out in time with the music, in walked Hermione, barefoot, in a flowing white gown, wearing a wreath of lit candles on her head, and carrying a tray of tea, scones, eggs and fruit.

As she placed the tray on the table, Draco burst out, “What the bloody hell is this?”

Hermione looked at him, then began serving breakfast. “This is an old tradition in my family,” she told them, directing her attention to all three Malfoys. “I had a great-grandmother who was Swedish, and she observed St. Lucia’s Day every December 13th. The youngest girl in the household over the age of five would wear white and a wreath of candles and bring breakfast to the rest of the family. I was too small to play the role for her before she died, but have done so every year since in her memory. Today is the 13th, and because we had been talking about upholding traditions, I decided to show you mine.”

Needless to say, Draco and his parents were shocked.

“This isn’t exactly what I meant yesterday,” Draco pointed out. “We don’t need new Muggle traditions.”

She looked at him straight on. “But this isn’t. I did some research in first year and found that wizards celebrate it, too, just with floating lights and bells and the house-elves singing. My dorm-mates appreciated it, and we have had one of the first years playing the role ever since. Well, I don’t know if they kept it up last year, but all the other years, yes.”

“Well, that is a slight relief, girl,” Narcissa said.

Lucius harrumphed. “It’s one tradition, and it doesn’t change my opinion of you much. You’re still lower class.” He looked over at his son for confirmation.

But Draco wasn’t agreeing. For once, he was speechless. He sat transfixed in wonder upon this witch whom he would be marrying, noticing the glow of the candlelight softening her features and sparkling in her brown doe eyes. And for the first time he thought there might be hope in the arrangement. “Granger, if you can keep one tradition, perhaps you can agree to keep others. Would you try at least, please?” he asked.

“Actually, last night I thought about what you said, and I think you may be right. To help ease everyone into this new tomorrow, it might be best to keep most of the old ways, and just make some subtle variations. People generally don’t like change, as you three have all shown me, so going slow would probably go over best. What do you think?”

The Malfoys glanced at each other, words passing in the looks and nods and slight hand gestures. Narcissa finally spoke for them all. “That sounds ... reasonable.”

Hermione gave her a small smile, and the rest of breakfast was spent in idle conversation.

\--

The planning progressed much more civilly between them after that and within no time the big day arrived.

The Manor was packed with society members, reporters, Ministry officials, and their family and friends, all murmuring with excitement.

“Look at all the fairies. How pretty! The ribbons they are holding look gorgeous. I’m glad they kept with dividing the guests,” one witch said to her friend, who was busy waving to her husband across the way.

“Oh, yes,” the other returned. “And I can’t wait to kiss everyone later under the mistletoe!”

The Gregorian choir sang traditional hymns as first the groom, resplendent in his formal robes with white, green and royal blue piping, was escorted in by his parents, then the bride by hers.

One of the wizards poked his friend in the ribs. “I say, she looks stunning. The blue looks a bit different, but it enhances her features rather well. What say you, Jeffrey?” Jeffrey couldn’t say anything; he was just staring in awe.

Rita Skeeter dictated from the sidelines, her quill writing furiously. “This is a lovely setup. It appears the Muggleborn heroine, Hermione Granger, has decided to hold with ancient Wizarding traditions, a great ploy in winning over the hearts of Pure-blood Wizarding Britain. It does seem to be working as smiles and joy abound from the attendees. Above us is a little different scene, which I am secretly told was instigated by the groom himself, Draco Malfoy: a morning sky with falling snowflakes, and floating candles everywhere, giving off the warmest glow upon the wedding party. Although it is said that the bride and groom are not overly fond of each other, they do appear to be quite content with the nuptials. All in all I say this is a resounding success and a step in a new direction for Wizarding society.”


End file.
